


plain boiled rice is still warm

by bubblegumcherrypop



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Sickfic, The softest bfs, sakusa has a fever and is dramatic, very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:21:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27258610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblegumcherrypop/pseuds/bubblegumcherrypop
Summary: He hated to admit it, but Kiyoomi would gladly suffer once more with a fever if it meant Motoya baby-ing him again.
Relationships: Komori Motoya/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	plain boiled rice is still warm

**Author's Note:**

> If you don’t like sakukomo romantically then press the back button and take a walk to forget this exists! 
> 
> I didn’t proofread this or read it back just Take It ! There is no going back.

Kiyoomi couldn’t stress it enough. He felt awful, he felt like shit, and he felt like he was going to fucking die.

His eyelids were so heavy, eyes stinging from exhaustion. Unconsciousness layed itself like a weighted blanket over his mind but he just couldn’t fucking sleep. 

Once again, Kiyoomi was going to fucking die. 

He was cold, so cold, despite the thick duvet that covered him and the blankets on top. None of it did him any good, Kiyoomi swore his feet were gonna go numb. God, and his stomach. He was starved, he was gonna fully starve to death. It was making all sorts of absolutely disgusting noises, but no, he couldn’t eat, that same stomach didn’t even have the heart to let him. 

All in all, Kiyoomi was going to die. Cause of death, common fever-slash-sick bug. He just wanted to sleep, he was so tired. His head pounded, dull ache resounding at the front of his skull. The creak of his bedroom door didn’t do much to help it, nor did the scent of Motoya’s signature boiled rice (that being the only thing he’s able to make.) 

“Ew, Kiyoomi, it reeks in here,” he curtly says with a - frankly unneeded - sing-songy tone, kneeling down next to Kiyoomi’s bed and placing the bowl of rice onto the dresser next to him. He set his arms upon the mattress besides Kiyoomi and rested his head on his hands, staring at him. A grin takes over his face. “I made you rice.”

Motoya looked unnecessarily proud of himself, as if he didn’t simply steam rice and scoop it into a bowl. Or maybe the grin was one of Motoya’s shit eating ones, Kiyoomi being on the brink of death - an exaggeration, but christ did he feel like it - and having no choice but to let Motoya take care of him. But it wasn’t as if Kiyoomi didn’t want Motoya there, quite the opposite, and he knew that. It was the rice.

Kiyoomi almost laughed. He would’ve, any other day. But right now any movement would make him projectile vomit, and the smell of rice was close to making him retch. 

“Thanks,” he managed, but not moving - only looking at Motoya from where he lay face up. Kiyoomi would much rather flip over onto his side, but again - too much movement. It’d shake his stomach too much. Motoya hummed and leant over him, face way too close as he placed a hand to Kiyoomi’s forehead. 

“You’re still hot,”

“I only took the last tablet ten minutes ago…” Kiyoomi said, weakly. “I’ll cool down a little soon.” 

“Mhmm,” the sound of chopsticks being jabbed into the mound of rice to keep them in there. “Think your stomach will let you eat?” 

“I’ll try, I’m starving.” 

Kiyoomi propped himself up on his elbows slowly, and stared to the wall half lidded as he took deep breaths, trying to calm the bile rising. Motoya handed him the bowl and Kiyoomi weakly weaved the chopsticks in his hand, grasping a small chunk of rice with it. 

“Want me to feed you?”

“Motoya, I’d vomit all over your hand.”

“And? Maybe I’m into that.”

Kiyoomi scowls, closing his lips around the rice and holds back a retch, forcing himself to chew. “Gross. You’re gross.” 

Laughing, Motoya runs a hand through Kiyoomi’s hair. “Kidding, I’m kidding.” Kiyoomi gives him a look before eating another mouthful - he can’t help the small bout of laughter that spilt out. He almost choked on his rice, but composed himself at the risk of throwing his guts up. Motoya chuckles again in Kiyoomi’s place.

The hand Motoya had in Kiyoomi’s hair ran down his damp cheek and onto his shoulder, snaking around to his back. Motoya rubbed it up and down Kiyoomi’s shoulder blade, rather firmly. Almost to ground Kiyoomi, to keep him breathing steadily, but there was a tenderness in the action, tenderness in how Motoya looked to him. 

“How’s the rice going down?” He asks.

Kiyoomi swallows his bite, “mhhm,” he looks down to the bowl, chopsticks prodding at the rice. “I have to chew slowly, and eat small bites. My body wants to throw it all up, but as long as I keep it slow then I’m just about fine.”

“Well, I’m glad you can at least eat.” Motoya smiles, and gets an exhausted yawn in response, Kiyoomi keeps eating. They sit like that in silence for a minute more, Kiyoomi eating small bites of rice, and Motoya knelt on high knees on the floor beside Kiyoomi’s bed, stroking his back up and down. 

On any other day Kiyoomi would’ve loved to tease Motoya back and forth and laugh with him, but with his body temperature a mess and stomach upside down he’d have to save his witty one liners till he was better. For now, Kiyoomi went lax under Motoya’s touch, letting it ground him. And when Motoya’s hand skirted over to Kiyoomi’s face again, thumb idly rubbing his cheek, Kiyoomi near nuzzled into his hand like a cat. He felt Motoya’s gaze on him still, as he continued eating. 

“How long are you staying around for?” Kiyoomi asked, mouth full.

“A few more hours, mom wants me home to sleep.” 

Kiyoomi hummed, letting Motoya continue to stroke him until he moved his bowl of rice to his bedside table again, flopping down onto his back, head falling onto his pillow. Kiyoomi sleepily turned onto his side to face Motoya, who now had his right hand in his hair, running his fingers through the messy black locks. 

“You should go to sleep,” Motoya near-whispered. Kiyoomi hummed, letting his heavy eyes flutter shut as Motoya’s fingers gently continued to weave themself through Kiyoomi’s hair. In his exhausted haze, Kiyoomi felt a kiss to his cheek and roughly heard an utterance of an “i’ll get you a fresh glass of water, ‘kay?” before he finally let sleep overcome him.

Kiyoomi awoke feeling… fine. Relatively fine. Actually, he’d only safely say he was doing better than yesterday, at least. He was well enough to stand up and to make his way into the kitchen.

On the side he saw a plastic bag. Kiyoomi face almost scrunched in tired confusion, but it faded into a smile upon opening it and seeing inside a box of umeboshi and instant noodles. Motoya must have left them for him.

He hated to admit it, but Kiyoomi would gladly suffer once more with a fever if it meant Motoya baby-ing him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hehe skkm soft
> 
> [my twt!](https://twitter.com/icedmo_)


End file.
